


Gardening

by Deisderium



Series: Happy Steve Bingo 2018 [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: And Also a Sharp Elbow in the Ribs, Brooklyn, Bucky Barnes Gets a Hug, Gardening, Happy Steve Bingo, Happy Steve Bingo 2018, M/M, Steve Rogers Gets a Hug, Thanks so Much Steven, World War II, mild pining, tomato
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 17:48:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16045478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deisderium/pseuds/Deisderium
Summary: Bucky surprises Steve coming home on furlough; Steve makes him a sandwich.





	Gardening

The first tomato of summer is a beaut. Steve has been admiring it daily, watching the slow shift of colors, green to yellow to red. There have been many good tomatoes in the history of the world. Steve has eaten some. But he can tell that this one is going to be  _special_. It's out ahead of the pack, after all. Its little tomato siblings are all still small and green, while this one is right about ready to eat. 

He'd rather be going to Europe, helping fight, like Bucky. He'd rather be  _with_ Bucky. But he's tried to enlist four times already, and the army doesn't want a scrawny little guy like him. He won't stop trying, but in the meantime, he's got a project to keep him busy. 

The apartment doesn't have anything like the space to have a real victory garden, not like the ones in Manhattan, but he's got a couple of potted plants on the roof and some more here on the fire escape where it's easy to water them. His cucumbers have yet to produce fuck-all but the tomato is coming along, and the squash vines are covered in flowers. Maybe in the fall, if he can't get the army to take him, he'll grow cabbage. It's not the same as actually fighting, but if Steve's growing it, then there's more produce to send to the troops. He'd never say it out loud, but he likes to think that when he takes a bite in Brooklyn, he's feeding Bucky on the base he's stationed on.

He suppresses a cough and leans back in the window. Maybe tonight he'll eat the tomato.

A knock on the door startles him and he bumps his head on the window frame. 

"Dammit," he mutters, rubbing his head, but softly, because the walls are paper-thin and Mrs. Walsh, his landlady, already thinks he's some kind of ruffian, even though he hasn't been behind on the rent in  _months_. 

"Coming," he calls out, and when the door swings open, his heart contracts, because it's Bucky, looking even better than he remembered and sharp as can be in his uniform. 

"Your face, Steve!" Bucky drops his duffel bag and Steve jumps forward to throw his arms around him, and then they're both thumping each other's shoulders, and Bucky smells so good, like cigarettes and Brylcream and his sweat, which you wouldn't think would be a good smell, but Steve's used to it by now and it just brings him the sensation of summer nights spent on the rooftop, legs tangled together, looking at the stars. Maybe they'll sleep up there tonight.

"What are you doing here?" Steve asks when they pull back far enough to grin at each other like a couple of drips. "I thought you weren't coming back until July. And why'd you knock anyhow?" He's smiling too hard to really frown, but he makes a concerted effort to glare. "It's your apartment, too, Buck. Don't tell me you lost your key." He yanks Bucky's duffel inside so he doesn't have to stand in the narrow hall. 

Bucky shrugs. "They moved it up. I've got furlough for a week, and then I ship out." And that really does knock Steve's smile a little sideways; it's not that he wants to stop Bucky from serving, but he wants to be there with him. Bucky probably notices, but he keeps talking. "And if I hadn't knocked, I wouldn't have got to surprise you, that's all." He fishes in his pocket and shows off the key like he's just done a magic trick. 

"Jerk." But Steve is smiling again. "Sit down, take a load off. Are you hungry? I've got sandwich stuff."

"In a little. Let me get outta this, take some air. Tell me what you've been up to." 

Bucky already knows most of what Steve's been up to, because Steve writes him letters every week, sometimes twice, keeping him up to date on the neighborhood and Bucky's family and the occasional art commissions Steve's been taking on top of his work painting signs, but Steve talks anyway as Bucky pulls off his uniform. Steve's used to running his mouth and looking/not looking at Bucky. He's gotten real good at it since the year Bucky turned sixteen and Steve realized how bad he wanted to lick his best friend's neck from his adam's apple to his ear, run his hands all over him. But that's Steve's business to worry about, not Buck's, so he chatters while Bucky strips down to his undershirt and steps into some trousers, suspenders falling slack until he pulls them over his shoulder. 

"Rooftop?" Bucky asks once he's comfortable. 

Steve pulls a couple of beers out of the icebox, and walking up the steps it's like Bucky never left, like they're in some bubble of endless time where Bucky's not going off to get shot at, not going anywhere Steve can't go with him. 

"What's all this?" Bucky says once he takes in the potted plants. 

 "Well, Buck, that's my victory garden." Inexplicably, Steve flushes, though it's not like no one else is growing them. You can look down the streets and see blobs of leaves on nearly every landing. 

Bucky slings an arm around Steve's shoulder, heavier with muscle than it was a year ago. "I shoulda known you wouldn't let a little thing like a 4F hold you back for long." 

"Four 4Fs," Steve says. "I'm aiming for five any day now." He hesitates. "You want to go out? We could go to the bar by the bridge." It's usually pretty crowded, and Bucky could see a lot of people he knows if that's what he wants to do. 

Bucky pulls back far enough to clink his bottle against Steve's. "Do I looked dressed to go out? I just got home. Let's stay in tonight." Of course this is Bucky's home, even if he's hardly been here the last year, away for basic and then training to be a sergeant. So why does it make Steve's heart thump so hard to hear him say it? Bum ticker, he thinks automatically, although there's no one asking him, and it's the wrong answer anyway. 

Later, when the sun's gone down and the beers are empty and they've gone downstairs so Bucky can flip through Steve's sketchbooks, Steve reaches out the window to the fire escape and picks the tomato. Bucky watches him slice it, pale eyes following the motions of the knife as Steve adds cheese and flat leaves of spinach (also from the rooftop garden, thank you very much.)

They take their plates out onto the fire escape, because even with the windows open, it's a sweatbox inside the apartment this time of year, but there's a breeze coming down the alleyway. They sit thigh to thigh, legs dangling over the edges, watching Mrs. Morelli across the street beat a rug in her doorway. 

The first bite of Steve's sandwich tastes like summertime, the red flesh of the tomato thick and juicy and not mealy the way they get later in the fall. The cheese is a sharp cheddar and he made Bucky's ma's soda bread recipe two days ago. Bucky watches him sidelong as he chews before he digs in himself. Steve's not totally sure what that look means, but maybe it's the same thing he's been feeling: rightness at being together again, settled deep into his bones. Sure, it's just for a week, but Steve's not going to let anxiety about the future mess up right now. 

"You know, Stevie, this is real good," Bucky says once the first half of his sandwich has vanished. "You ever get tired of living in Brooklyn, you could go be a farmer somewhere." 

Steve punches him in the arm to communicate just what he thinks about that, but he can't deny that there's satisfaction in growing things, and even more satisfaction in watching Bucky eat the tomato he grew. It's ridiculous, because Steve's bought groceries before and never quite felt this way, like feeding Bucky is Steve contributing to the bone and flesh and skin of him. It's a tomato sandwich, for God's sake. 

Bucky punches him back, so Steve gets him with an elbow. He has an unfair advantage in the elbow department, because his are pointy like knives, whereas Bucky's are dulled by all the muscle in the vicinity. "If you make me drop the rest of this sandwich, Rogers, I swear to God," Bucky says, but instead of retaliating, he slings his arm over Steve's shoulders again and jams a bite into his mouth. 

Steve lets himself sag against Bucky's side, solid and warm. It's a good sandwich. 

**Author's Note:**

> [Victory Gardens](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Victory_garden) grown by private individuals or in public parks were supposed to lower the price on produce, thereby freeing up more of it for the army. If Steve Rogers couldn't actually be in the army, he was 100% doing whatever else he could to support them while trying to sneak his way in.


End file.
